The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12. Кейт Хьюит
to his feet and bowed.
Clutching a fold of her gown between thumb and forefinger, Eleni left the room with her head held high, but as she closed the great wooden doors behind her she heard the unmistakable words which Zakari uttered.
‘She’s your lover, isn’t she?’
There was a pause. ‘You think I would have someone that beautiful staying in my house and not bed her?’ Kaliq was saying.
Zakari’s tone was thoughtful. ‘But there is something you’re not telling me.’
Eleni knew that to listen was wrong—but was there another woman in the world who would not have done the same under the circumstances?
Kaliq laughed. ‘You won’t believe me if I do!’ And then he lowered his voice and began to speak.
She heard the words ‘stable girl’ and something else and Zakari’s small exclamation of disbelief. Eleni leaned against the door and salt tears welled up and blurred her vision as she tried to blot out Kaliq’s hateful and boastful tone. Her eyes closed. How he must be laughing at her now. How could he? How could he?
Was he bragging about how he had broken in his little stable girl—taken her virginity and then schooled her in the art of love-making, just as you would school a newly broken horse? Showing off to his older brother as if she was some kind of amusing diversion! But what had she expected? What an utter fool she had been to imagine that there had been some kind of special bond between her and Kaliq. She had only believed that because it was what she wanted to believe, and not because it was true.
And what would the powerful Zakari think of his brother’s behaviour? Because Kaliq had not only bedded someone completely unsuited to a royal sheikh, but had allowed her to entertain his powerful brother—and surely that was an almighty risk for him to have taken?
And then it hit her so hard that she wondered how she could have been so stupid not to have thought of it before.
Of course it was a risk, she realised. For wasn’t that the motivation behind all Kaliq’s behaviour? Because risk made the mundane tolerable, didn’t it—as well as providing excitement for the jaded appetite of a rich and powerful man?
Hurt and pain and betrayal clutched at her heart like a cold vise and in her bedroom she wanted to tear the dazzling jewellery from her neck but dared not mishandle it for fear it would break. And so it was with trembling fingers that she carefully removed the necklace, earrings and clips and replaced them in the velvet-lined box. Never had the temporary nature of her situation been driven home so starkly as when she took off those borrowed gemstones. Then she hung up her clothes and slipped into a silken robe—because she was damned if she would wait naked in the bed for her sheikh like some sacrificial lamb.
Her heart was pounding as she heard the distant slamming of the heavy front door, the sound of footsteps approaching her bedroom. Drawing in a deep breath, she waited to see if he would knock—but of course he didn’t. Why should he show her any courtesy, when deep down she was nothing more than a servant in his eyes, no matter how priceless the jewels he gave her to wear nor how easily she could fool his brother into thinking otherwise?
Kaliq entered the room, his lips curving into a speculative smile as he saw her standing—robed—by the writing desk. Her long hair tumbled down to her waist in a dark, silken cloud and the rich satin clung like melted butter to her slender curves. His voice dipped into a caress even as he felt the sing of blood in his veins as he observed her. ‘You aren’t tired?’
‘Should I be?’
His eyes narrowed as something unfamiliar in her tone alerted him to the fact that all was not well. ‘The dinner must have been something of an endurance for you.’
She turned round then, her green eyes full of hurt. ‘You think so?’ she whispered. ‘Perhaps it was a triumph that I managed to endure it without disgracing myself? Without picking up a chicken bone and gnawing at it like an animal! No doubt you are amazed you could trust your stable girl to behave herself in the most daunting of circumstances—or that your brother should deign to sit down and share a meal with me in the first place.’
A nerve began to flicker at Kaliq’s temple as he felt the first steal of anger. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Eleni,’ he said steadily. ‘My brother liked you very much.’
‘Until you told him who I was?’ she said flatly.
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ he questioned icily.
‘You’ve… you’ve told him who I really am, haven’t you, Kaliq?’
There was a pause. ‘And if I have?’
For some reason Eleni wanted to scream—and yet reason was playing no part in this great swirling mass of emotions which now made her heart feel as if someone were tearing at it with their jagged fingernails.
‘And wh-what exactly did you tell him?’ she questioned shakily. ‘That I was your adaptable little stable girl who you schooled and then dressed up like a glittering puppet so that she could fool the world and the royal family into thinking she was more than she really is?’
‘What I told him is my business!’ he flared back. ‘And certainly not yours to question. How dare you speak to me in this manner?’
But Eleni ignored the dark note in his voice—some force far stronger than common sense driving her on to say her piece. ‘Because I’m angry,’ she answered. ‘And because I’m hurt. We’re lovers, Kaliq—and that should make us equal, but of course it doesn’t! And I’m not talking about the differences in our circumstances, but real equality. Because if we were truly equal, then I should have the freedom to tell you what’s on my mind—even if you don’t agree with it.’
‘And just what exactly is on your mind?’ he questioned dangerously.
Eleni heard the abrasive edge to his voice and some tiny corner of her heart urged her to stop now, before it was too late. Before she said something irrevocable which he would never be able to forgive. Before things changed for ever.
But hadn’t they changed anyway, all on their own? The way things always did change, because nothing in life ever stayed the same. The flowers in the desert which bloomed and died were just different versions of their own small lives. Her brief and beautiful affair with the prince was almost over; she had known that the sands of time were running out on it almost from the moment it had first begun and she must accept that.
And Eleni knew that she was in much too far not to tell him—and wouldn’t it be dishonest to herself if she didn’t go through with it? To do what—to curtsey to her sheikh as if nothing had happened—to put it all from her mind and carry on as before? Letting him strip her bare and make love to her as if she had no feelings to hurt? How could she?
‘Did you enjoy letting me play-act at being your hostess tonight?’ she queried shakily. ‘Or did you simply enjoy the risk that it involved—because risk is your whole reason for living, isn’t it, Kaliq? It’s the reason you went ahead and told Zakari I was your lover—even though there was no real need to. He’ll never meet me again after tonight—we both know that. But maybe you were hoping for some kind of reaction? Your brother’s envy that you should have been openly flaunting your affair with a servant—or his disapproval, perhaps?’
‘That is enough!’ he gritted furiously.
But Eleni couldn’t stop the words which were tumbling out—because hadn’t this aspect of his character troubled her for as long as they had been intimate? ‘It’s almost as if you want to bring discord into your life where none exists,’ she whispered. ‘As if that will make up for the fact that you’ve never forgiven yourself for Zafir’s disappearance—’
‘I said, that is enough!’ he raged, catching her arms between the tight grip of his hands and pushing his face close to hers, his black eyes spitting angry fire. ‘Understand?’
But